


Raising the Stakes

by beingawesome



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Apollo whump, Drama, End of the World, F/M, Genderbending, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pain, Prophecies, Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7971415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingawesome/pseuds/beingawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apollo is plagued by visions that send him spiraling into a web of betrayal, before he realizes that Porphyrion is now female. Everything gets worse from there. </p><p>WARNING: Not HoO compliant</p><p>Cross-posted on FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One.

"Apollo?"

 

Apollo, God of the Sun, Archery, Healing and Poetry, gasped and opened his eyes to see concerned silver eyes peering down at him

"Oh, Arty." He wearily looked around, ignoring his sister's huff of annoyance, and saw, much to his relief, no other deity present who would see him on the ground, sweating and panting uncontrollably, "It's you."

A dull throb was beginning to settle at the back of his head, and he groaned at the feeling, fingers tangling absent-mindedly in his golden locks as though trying to physically _pull_ the headache away. It had been millennia since Apollo had last gotten a migraine this bad.

"Yes, it is me." Artemis stepped forward, an alien expression of concern flitting across her face, "Are you...do you require my assistance?"

"I'm fine." He said shortly, hefting himself up and onto his bed with a pained sigh. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Apollo, these... _visions_ have been _plaguing_ you-"

"And will cease soon, I'm sure." He grinned with a fake confidence that he admittedly did not feel; he didn't worry too much when he saw Artemis look like she wanted to rip his hair out _for_ him. It was a normal reaction, for her.

Of course, he had to _immediately_ be proven wrong, as a sharp pain spiked through his head.

"Nonsense, brother-- as far as I'm concerned, these have never caused you pain." Artemis settled for saying, hands making their home on her slim hips.

"The pain is _not_ due to my visions," Apollo finally snapped, "And I would thank you to remember that."

It was rare for him to suddenly use the older way of speaking, but it meant that he was _done_ discussing the subject, and his sister apparently realized that as well, when her eyes turned cold.

"Fine, have it your way. I shall leave then."

She walked a few paces forward, before disappearing in a gust of air.

"What is _happening_ to me?" Apollo finally whispered, dropping his head in his hands, "What's _wrong_ with me?"

Receiving no answer from the stifling silence of the room, he too disappeared.

 

 

He appeared in front of the open doors to the Throne Room; they were easily 50 times his mortal size, and it was an extremely unnerving realization, so the male simply closed his eyes, feeling himself grow taller, _stronger_.

The room was large beyond measure, made entirely of marble, with 12 custom chairs enriched with imperial gold circling a large fire. The ceiling was, again, carved with intricate gold carvings made by the finest blacksmiths and, of course, Hephaestus himself.

As he seated himself he noticed, with growing amusement, that the other immortals were once again bickering amongst themselves, no doubt due to a scathing comment made by one of the members.

"So, what is it this time?" Apollo asked the neighboring Hermes, since it seemed that Artemis was perfectly content to ignore him.

"Huh?" The messenger god blinked in surprise, no doubt fully engrossed in the ensuing water battle between Poseidon and Athena ( _again_ ), "Oh, I think it was about Demeter's inability to renounce cereal."

It ended up being unnecessary, Apollo asking him, because, although on cue, Hephaestus banged his hammer against the arm of his throne, simultaneously doing the equivalent to Apollo's head, "I say, ENOUGH with your cereal woman!"

Several of the other Gods grumbled in agreement, no doubt fed up with the nature-lover's soundless debates.

"I'll have you know that cereal _prevents_ heart diseases!"

"Gods do not _get_ heart diseases!"

"That's what you-"

A general hush fell over all those present in the room and, from the corner of his eyes Apollo noticed Hestia smile from her place near the Hearth, as the sound of footsteps echoed through the stillness. Apollo nearly groaned in relief: Zeus had _finally_ arrived.

The King of the Gods harbored a strict expression of discipline, with very few wrinkles on his youthful face that were countered by the shocking snowy hair that was cut short and his neatly trimmed beard. Zeus' grey-blue eyes crackled with an intensity yet to be discovered in any other deity, bar Kronos, powerful in orchestrating the God's overall appearance.

Of course, none of the Twelve, or Eleven, feared him. Zeus did not really have much of a fear factor. Rather, the Olympians paid him respect because that's what they were expected to do in public. That is what they would have done for any god or goddess save, perhaps, Aphrodite, Hermes and Apollo. They had never been taken seriously by their more war-like cousins and uncles, though they did not mind it much.

Apollo, in particular, was used to it. His purpose was basically just to set an example for the other Gods when something went wrong, and it usually involved him becoming a mortal.

He subconsciously scratched at an itch near the shell of his ear, as Zeus took his seat. He was wearing a dark grey suit today, Apollo noted; that meant he was in a rather serious mood.

"Assembled Gods and Goddesses," He began solemnly, "I am afraid that I am the bearer of bad news."

Beside him, Hermes shifted uncomfortably and Apollo deduced that it was really _him_ who was the true bearer.

"Gaia is stirring."

Whatever Apollo had been bracing himself for, he was _not_ prepared for this; judging by the murmurs, so were the other Gods.

Athena's voice rose above the clamor.

"What do you propose we do, Father?" He stormy grey eyes were rather calm, actually, almost apathetic.

"That is why I have summoned the Council," Zeus inhaled deeply, "Until any further agreement is reached-"

A _wave of pain_ rocked through Apollo's skull as he cradled his head in his arms, trying _desperately_ not to see the oncoming vision, _not in front of the others_ , to no avail.

 

 

_"Mistress." A nervous voice._

_Apollo looked around; he was in a cave of sorts, hair damp with sweat and shoes squelching in the muddy soil. It was not a very nice place to be; he could practically feel the dark aura being emitted from every corner._

_"What is it?" A figure emerged from the darkness; body almost one with the earth._

_No._

_Apollo gasped as her face fell into the dim light, a horrifying realization dawning upon him. She wasn't one with the earth. She_ was _the Earth._

_He tried to force himself to move, to scout for any clues to determine her location but found, to his dismay, that his feet were trapped in the soil, rendering him immobile._

_He was stuck._

_"There...there is a slight problem, Mistress."_

_That voice, he_ had _to have heard it somewhere, it sounded_ so _familiar. Was it a nymph or a dryad?_

_"What is it, you insufferable goddess?! Spit it out!"_

_A goddess, then. The knowledge of a traitor made Apollo's gut churn uneasily._

_"The King, Milady. He has...well, he has become a female due to some obscure magic, no doubt on the part of Hecate..."_

_He gaped; there was_ no way _he had heard correctly, right?_

_There was a deafening moment of silence, after which Gaia finally spoke, voice frigid._

_"What you mean to tell me is that I now have a_ daughter _instead of a son?"_

_"Y-yes, Mistress." The blurry figure knelt._

_Then, a surprisingly cruel smile etched its way onto the muddy face of the powerful immortal, as she looked up: directly into Apollo's eyes._

_"This should raise the stakes."_


	2. Two.

The pain rushed back in one strong swoop, as Apollo opened his eyes to see concerned silver eyes peering down at him, much like before.

This time, Apollo could hardly manage a croak before shuddering in the unpleasant sensations the vision brought with it. He clenched his eyes shut, knowing that nothing would stop the feeling; the pain would just need to go on its own.

The darkness was actually uncomfortable to be in; dulling one of his senses made his other ones get amplified. In other words, he could feel easily ten times what he was supposed to, and it was not the best feeling.

He quickly opened his eyes again.

“Is this normal?” He heard Zeus question, and he nearly groaned because, _of course_ , all the Gods were there and they witnessed him having a fit, practically, during one of his weakest moments. That was _so embarrassing_ ; no one would take him seriously ever again. They would just regard him to be off his rocker and leave it at that.

He searched desperately for Artemis’ eyes, tried to convey through the desperation of his gaze how _important_ it was for her to _not_ tell Zeus what was going on. He would have done it himself, but he was the God of Truth; lying wasn’t something he _did_.

Artemis stared at his frenzied features for a bit, before turning to her Father. None of the other Gods had ever seen Apollo deliver Prophecies or see Visions before, so they wouldn’t be able to pick apart the truth from the lies anyway.

“Yes, this occasionally happens, Father.” Artemis nods, not letting a smile grace her face because that would be far too suspicious, “But I think I should be getting him back to his place...I’m sure Hermes is willing to assist?”

It was then that Apollo noticed the Messenger God fretting over him on his other side, and felt a rush of guilt momentarily pass through him; Hermes was so worried about him, and he didn’t even realize he was there. He was a terrible deity, wasn’t he?

“Huh?” The dark-haired male looked confused for all of two seconds, before realization struck him quickly, “I mean, yeah, sure! I’ll help ya out!”

“Wait.”

Apollo inwardly sighed at the order given by the Wisdom Goddess; of _course_ she wouldn’t let anything go, she was _Athena_! His heart picked up speed though, furiously pumping his blessed blood through his body.

“Should we not find out what he saw?” The grey-eyed goddess was giving him this expression that he was, unfortunately often on the receiving end of: the ‘you-are-dumb-but-I-need-you’ look.

“I don’t think he’s in a position to be speaking right now, Athena.”

Apollo had never felt more grateful for his sister as she stalked towards him with purpose, in confident strides that would put the most confident of mortals to shame. It, however, did not deter the smart Goddess, who only raised a dark eyebrow in indifference.

“Every piece of information that we receive may help us better guard Olympus,” She pointed out dryly, and Apollo noted with disappointment that Zeus was falling for it, hook, line and sinker, “Nothing is more important than that.”

“Okay children,” A sweet voice piped up, and Apollo was just so _done_ with everything; did everyone always make this much noise, or were they doing it that day just to test how long he could go without his head blowing up?

“It’s nice to see you’re so... _invested_ in what’s going on right now,” Aphrodite cooed cheerfully, before smirking, plump red curling upwards, “But I’ve got my own things to invest in...namely the Ball! I’ve got things to set up, pairings to set up!”

With that, she vanished in a fragrance of cherry blossoms and plumes of pink.

The throne room was silent for a bit, before the uproar.

“Shit man, I totally forgot about the Ball!” Dionysus groaned in exasperation, Diet Coke tumbling out of his hands.

Next to him, Hephaestus groaned, hands covering his misshapen face, “Don’t remind me. Why am I her husband again?”

“Hermes, let us leave now.” Artemis said immediately, when she noticed that Apollo had clenched his eyes shut again at the needle-like sensation digging into his scalp.

“SURE THING!” The younger God grinned cheerfully, before scooping up his older half-brother bridal style, making him groan in discomfort. Apollo could see a flicker of worry cross his face for a brief second, but it was gone as soon as it came, and he disappeared in sync with Artemis without a sound.

 

 

Apollo didn’t know that he had fallen asleep on the way until he woke up.

His room was mostly silent, save for his heavy breathing; he wiped some of the sweat off his face, grateful that his accelerated healing allowed him to shake those migraines off on the same day he got them. A crease graced his brow as he pondered about the recent visions he’d been having, and it only further worsened when he recollected his latest.

When the traitor, whoever that was, had spoken about the...’King’ turning into a girl, she looked like she was being serious. But Gaia had _looked_ at him, so how could he be sure that this was not an elaborate scheme meant to through him and the rest of the Gods off.

He decided he would keep the knowledge to himself for now, and investigate on his own.

He swung his legs over the bed and clambered out, only to nearly crumble where he was standing because his knees felt like they were about to shatter into fine dust. Inactivity _really_ wasn’t good for him. He somehow managed to move around, eventually.

He gazed outside his window, down at the tiny village-like areas of Olympus. It was as beautiful as it was the day he had first seen it, as a small child still clinging onto his Mother’s arm. He could remember it as though it were yesterday; Artemis was constantly giggling at his awestruck expressions, though she was no better herself, with wide silver eyes and a constant smile adorning her face. He remembered that the both of them actually teamed up for once and begged Leto to get them some ambrosia from one of the vendors on those rickety roads.

Ambrosia was one of those omnipresent foods; however, like any other meal, it too tasted differently depending on where it was produced. Olympus was said to give rise to some of the most tasteful ambrosia to be found anywhere, and Apollo was proud to say he could attest to it.

His gaze turned melancholic the longer he gazed at the view. It had been a long time since he’d last gone around Olympus; he had one precious spot, reserved for him and Hermes that he used to visit all the time with the younger God. A small smile crosses his face as he remembers how carefree they once were, when they weren’t so stressed about everything Zeus pushed onto them, way before the so-called ‘Bronze Age’ of the humans. When the war fanaticism started, most of their bonds ended. The Gods now, Apollo knew, were fragmented.

Ridding his mind of the shameful thought, the blond-haired archer quickly walked over to the door to whose peg he had hung one of his most favorite clothes. Contrary to popular opinion, Gods didn’t use their powers for _everything_ , it was impossible; they too had a limit to how much of their energy they could allow to be sapped for every action they took. For Gods like Apollo, it was especially tough to retain much energy; holding domain over so many areas often made it difficult for him to concentrate his abilities to one spot.

Shrugging on his coat, Apollo thought for a moment, before deciding he could use some of his resource to zap himself to the place he wanted to visit. He let a mild smirk slip its way onto his face before he was whisked away by his own will.

 

 

He appeared, in a gust of wind, in front of a white-fenced enclosure, of sorts, that had trees practically growing their way out of it, and vines covering the gates. He slowly made his way inside, feet automatically leading him to a small patch of land covered with shrubs with dark green leaves. They were laurel shrubs.

 _Daphne_.

Apollo felt the familiar burn of tears from the back of his eyes, could not help the light trembling of his lips as he settled in front of the plants, gazing at them with broken eyes.

“I’m sorry,” He croaked out, “I know I say this every time, and it will never be enough; I took away your choices, I _drove_ you to this and...I absolutely _hate_ myself for this.

“But, you know, I really did love you. And, I think you would have loved me too, if I had just given you a chance, if I hadn’t been so _stupid_ as to piss off Eros. We...maybe I wouldn’t have such terrible luck with love if I didn’t do that, maybe everyone I felt vaguely romantic feeling for wouldn’t meet such _horrible_ fates as well.”

He got up, dusting off his jeans; he couldn’t stand being there any longer. Every moment he spent in that area, he could only remember the cheerful nymph, the terror encompassing her youthful face as he chased her like a beast, like a _savage_.

He moved on to his quiet spot, and was pleased to find it intact, almost unchanged, in fact. There was a little clearing made by the looming trees, in which there was a mini pond and a stone garden bench embedded in the soil. As a child, Apollo would often sit there and try to compose some music on his lyre, or to write proper poems, not the ones he used to annoy people. Hermes would sometimes drop by and suggest something; other times, he would distract Apollo and embarrass him about the time he let the Messenger God steal his cattle.

Those were good times.

 

 

He tensed up when he heard a twig snap behind him, and he immediately whirled around, arm ready to materialize his bow and arrow, when he blinked, mouth slightly agape.

There was a teenage girl standing there. Just staring at him.

She seemed to have eventually realized that he had noticed her, because her face nearly cracked with how wide the grin she was sporting was. Her grey eyes sparkled happily, and Apollo dazedly thought that this was the first time he’d ever seen _happy_ grey eyes; most of the time they were angry or numb, if his memory served him correctly.

“Hi Mr. Apollo!” She smiled at him, hand tucking a rod-straight lock of ash brown hair behind her ear, “It’s great to meet you!”

“Um,” He mumbled, caught off guard for the first time in centuries, “It’s nice to meet you too?”

“Oh, this is _so cool_!” She gushed, cheeks coloring in her exhilaration, “But what are you doing here, no offense?”

“Oh, uh, I was just taking a stroll.”

It slipped out of his mouth before he realized he was talking to an absolute _stranger_ and, with dread, he quickly decided he should be the one asking questions.

“Not that it isn’t a pleasure to talk to you,” He said smoothly, some of his usual confidence returning as he familiarized himself with the situation, “But who _are_ you?”

“Oh, that was silly of me!” The nymph, from what Apollo could deduce, giggled, “My name’s Melia; I’m the spirit of the Ash Tree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, this is super important for the plot and, no, Apollo isn't gonna date Melia. Meliae are actually pretty old beings, but I reinvented them for the purpose of my story, so...yeah, ha. Ha.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter is to your liking!


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